


darling?

by Azia



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azia/pseuds/Azia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mettaton had never felt like a beautiful creation before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	darling?

**Author's Note:**

> reading over this i realized that there are some mistakes, but i'm too lazy to go back and edit. i'm sorry.

Happstablook was supposed to be the chipper alternative of her dreary cousin, Napstablook, but she would curl up in the pink sheets of her too-pink room and cry herself to sleep nearly every night.

“Blooky, dear, I have to admit that I am in a bit of a rut. This has never happened before.” Her words dripped with lies, but her cousin didn’t seem to care.

“Oh. I’m making you sad, aren’t I? I can just go back home.” Tears welled up in her poor cousin’s eyes. She hovered closely next to them – the only way two ghosts could comfort one another – and closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her jumbling thoughts together.

“No, no, you can never make me sad. I just…” Happstablook moved back to look her cousin in frustration. “I just don’t know how to describe it—this feeling that I have.”

“I, uh, I made sandwiches earlier. We can eat our feelings together.” Her cousin always knew just what to do.

☆

Happstablook and Napstablook both lied on the floor together after a satisfying meal. Happstablook could see the cosmos swirling before her eyes as she dipped deeper and deeper into her relaxing trace, but it just was not comforting her like it usually would have. Her mind was heavy and her heart was wearier than her cousin’s. She tried to pinpoint when exactly this strange, poignant emotion had taken over her senses, but couldn’t.

“Are you sad… because of Shyren’s sister?” They both simultaneously broke out of their reveries. Happstablook turned around to face her cousin fully and shook her head.

“No, I’m not sad about that anymore. Besides, if Shyren’s happy, I’m happy. Ever since I asked her to perform with us she’s been in a much, much better mood. I just saw her humming to herself this morning and she seemed pretty happy.”

“Was it my sandwich? I overcompensated with the condiments and upset the balance of the meal, didn’t I?”

“No, Blooky, I was sad before you made us sandwiches, silly. And they were delicious too.” Happstablook could do nothing but sigh. Her cousin always meant well, but this was an unusual occurrence. If Blooky couldn’t understand her, then who could?

☆

Happstablook looked down at her diary unhappily. It had been an uphill battle to get out of bed that morning and it had proven to be painstaking to tie a neat little pink bow around her head. She looked at herself in her television’s reflection. She loved the color pink, but she no longer felt so lovely in it.

Blooky’s words weighed heavy in her mind. They had been so sad since their other cousin left. Happstablook had to promise her dear cousin that she was never going to leave them. They both were better together than apart, and they both knew that. They had been inseparable since forever.

During her slumber, Happstablook discovered what she had found fault in: her body. She had a wonderful dream where she was someone else. She felt comfortable, carefree. She had lived up to her namesake – Happstablook the Happy Ghost – but when she awoke, she felt herself crying up a storm akin to her beloved cousin.

She traveled to her cousin’s home. They were listening to music on their computer. It was a minimalistic, haunting throwback of a tune – their favorite. “B-Blooky,” she called out. Blooky took off their headphones and turned to her. “Could you…” She took a moment to swallow back her regret. “Could we be treated the same? I don’t want to be ‘her’ anymore.” Blooky nodded. “Thank you, darling. Thank you for understanding.”

☆

Happstablook initially decided that putting out the advertisement for the Happy Human Fanclub was a swell idea until they actually attended the first meeting. There had only been a single attendee; a short, stubby sort of reptilian monster who wore a pleated skirt and glasses that pinched the end of her nose.

She stood to her feet when Happstablook entered the room. Thank goodness Napstablook hadn’t attended, or else they would’ve cried from the fact that Happs had rented an entire room and baked a cake for only one other person.

“H-Hi, I’m, uh, I-I’m Alphys.” Standing up, Happstablook could see that she was wearing a white T-shirt featuring a character from an obscure children’s cartoon it looked like.

“Hello, darling, I’m Happstablook. Or you can call me Happs for short, but not Blooky, because my cousin already took that nickname.” Happs laughed a cheery sound to lighten the tension that Alphys was helplessly slathering on by the pound.

Happstablook enjoyed Alphys’ presence in the end. She had proven to have an offbeat sense of humor (unlike dear Napstablook – who had no sense of humor whatsoever, sadly) and an enticing aura.

☆

Happstablook found themselves on the verge of gushing about Alphys in their fourth diary. Their diaries were scattered across the floor with browning, blank covers that proved to be bland compared to the rest of the bright, bright room.

They actually felt pretty happy again. Their newest entry in the fifth diary was solely about the fact that they had so many diaries and their collection was both beautiful and would hopefully continue to grow.

Napstablook took note of their cousin’s brightened mood. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

“Yes, I am! Maybe that fanclub meeting was all I needed.” Happs drew close to their cousin and affectionately pressed both of their cheeks together. “I love you, dear cousin!”

“Oh. Me too.”

☆

It was odd how Alphys knew what Happstablook wanted before they could even describe it. She had showed them sketches of a new body and Happstablook felt themselves surge forth with an upsweeping feeling that must have come from the most innermost of their soul.

Happstablook tried to do their version of apologizing to their cousin before they left. “Blooky, dear, I hate to leave you, but I need this. Alphys is giving me a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Napstablook only responded with tears. If Happs ever came back they would be able to wrap actual arms around their precious cousin and hold them close to an actual chest with an actual beating heart.

Alphys and Happstablook went through a long process together in her lab. Not only were they both creating a new body, but a new identity altogether. Happs was being reborn, and they could finally feel comfortable in their own skin.

They could finally say, “I feel like myself,” and mean it.

☆

Alphys may or may not had some input in choosing his new name. “Mettaton” had a nice little ring to it. There was an almost metallic feel to it, and maybe even a human sensation might have been hidden between the letters (or at least a ghost of one).

“I-I just need to show the other body to the king to get his opinion on it.” It was all well in theory, and Mettaton really did appreciate Alphys’ efforts to make him another body based off of a human’s appearance (and partly from those awful cartoons she loved so much), but there was a problem.

“Alphys, sugar, can you riddle me this?” He removed the sheets that she had so graciously covered his naked form with and pointed downwards. Alphys only looked down for a split second before she forced her eyes back to his, a deep blush covering her cheeks. “What on earth is this?”

“W-W-What’s wha… I-I-I d-don’t know what you'r—”

“What the fuck is this?” Mettaton was not usually one for profanity, but the moment called for it. He sat back on the worktable and spread his legs to give her a better look. He couldn’t have been clearer. Mettaton didn’t know much about anatomy, but he certainly knew that what was between his legs was certainly feminine, not masculine. He used his fingers to spread the lips apart and continued to point everything – the clitoris, the opening – out for Alphys. “Why did you add this to the body? I didn’t ask for this.”

“O-Oh, oh! I’m sorry, M-Mettaton, seems like we had a bit of, uh, m-mis-miscommunication, that’s all.” She tripped over her feet trying not to look at him as she reached for the drawers of her worktable. She pulled out a pair of pink boots and black leggings, like Mettaton had asked for. “Just, um, cover up for now. The k-king needs to meet you, to, uh, yeah. He needs to meet you, now.”

Mettaton hastily put the clothes on, but stood his ground. “No, no, no. I can’t go out like this. I...” He reached for the nearest thing he could – Alphys’ smaller toolkit – and threw it off the table, getting nuts and bolts everywhere. Alphys only looked down and shuffled her feet together. “I hate this!” He let out. “I’ve hated this my entire life, and look what you did! You just brought it back without as much as a discussion with me about it first!” The newer body was nice, yes, minus the uncalled for edition that Alphys had implemented, but Mettaton wanted to be in his old body again. Something about the rectangular form ironically made him feel as if he wasn’t trapped inside of the box.

“After you meet with Asgore, I’ll take the body back and fix it.” He was taken aback by her sudden lack of timorous quivering in her voice. She was looking off to the side, her glasses fogging up. Mettaton saw tears gathering along the inside rims of her glasses. He bit his lip before he hugged her. He had planned for Napstablook to be the first one he held in his newfound arms, but it was Alphys instead.

Mettaton wasn’t one for apologizing, but Alphys seemed to understand. After he let go of her, he took a step back. “Anyways, please tell me that you at least got some makeup? I can’t stand before the king looking so plain. He’ll grow bored of me in an instant.”

“Oh, I promise that Asgore won’t grow bored with you.” Mettaton was unsure on how to feel about what she said. Did she mean that the king was really as kind as everyone said, or that Mettaton’s personality and looks were just so extraordinary that Asgore had no choice but to take immediate interest in him? “And I got h-hair products too.” She left briefly to get all of the supplies and laid them out in front of him. There was a mirror towards the side of them; small, dirty, but still usable.

He combed and curled his hair – something’s he’s always wanted to do – as Alphys gushed on about some new show in the background. He appropriately nodded and commented here and there as he curled his eyelashes and applied a dark shade of lipstick.

It was rarity for Mettaton to feel self-conscious, even in his ghost days. He only felt a silver of anticipation because Alphys was constantly radiating such nervous energy constantly. “How do I look?” Mettaton didn’t need confirmation from others, and Alphys knew this, but she shakily complimented him anyways. He found that he was complicated in that way: he enjoyed looking his best (as expected to be of a star), and makeup and tightfitting clothes were seen as a necessity, but he wasn’t sure how to feel about what Alphys had done.

☆

Asgore was unexpectedly exactly as Mettaton expected for him to be.

He was large, probably at least a foot or two taller than Mettaton, but was giving off tranquil gentle giant vibes instead of empowering, kingly ones. He had immediately stopped watering his everlasting garden to fix the robot a cup of tea.

Mettaton found that he was more focused on the cup than the drink inside. The teacups were made of the daintiest china. He wondered how Asgore managed to hold such a small cup without crushing it. His hands were so large. Asgore actually let Mettaton hold one hand as he drunk his own tea with the other. Mettaton stroked in between his wrist and thumb and the pads of his fingers.

Mettaton ended up not showing Asgore his abilities as Alphys had planned for. They lied in the golden flowers and spoke about everything and nothing at the same time. Asgore’s presence was exactly what Mettaton had craved for his entire life.

Mettaton gave a genuine smile when Asgore wove a golden crown of flowers and placed them on top of Mettaton’s head. “Tell me, how do you feel now?”

“About myself?” Asgore nodded. “Well, I like the new body Alphys gave me – the first one. She’s a dear, but I’m afraid that she made a mistake with this one.” Mettaton wasn’t sure if even the king would understand his feelings. “But it’s no big deal,” he brushed off. “She says she’ll fix it after my meeting with you.”

“You look fine. I cannot see any abnormalities with you.”

“Oh, please, flattery will get you nowhere, darling.” It was quite the opposite when it came to Mettaton in actuality. Flattery was everything. It was what he built his empire on. He took the king’s hand again. His hold was oddly comforting. Asgore, still seated, helped the robot back to his feet. With Asgore sitting they were somewhat the same height then. Mettaton pressed a dramatic kiss against the king’s cheek and held back a laugh when he saw that he had left a mark with his lipstick. He licked his thumb and tried to wipe it away, but Asgore grabbed his wrist gently and pushed him away.

Mettaton needed to see him again.

☆

Mettaton had to owe to Frisk. He had greatly underestimated them. Everything seemed to be better on the surface. Mettaton was reunited with Blooky and Shyren, he had reconciled his relationship with Alphys (she had been so preoccupied with the human that she never got around to repairing his new body in the end), and he and grown even closer to Asgore.

The king decided that a private life was the one for him. He still lived close to the mountains, surrounded by beloved plants in a quaint little home that somehow suited a big fellow like him.

Mettaton was tugging the child’s hand as he practically dragged them through the mall. “Who knew that they made crop tops that actually look good on these quarterback shoulders of mine? And those jeans that you found: perfect. Fitted in all the right places.”

“What’s wrong?”

Mettaton stopped in his tracks. The kid had managed to carry five bags on their arm and was balancing another on their head. “Hm? Nothing’s wrong, darling.”

“You’re nervous.” Wow, was this kid observant.

“Well, you’ve beat it out of me. The only reason why we’re taking this extravagant shopping trip is because I needed a new outfit to visit Asgore in today. I haven’t visited him in almost two weeks and I wanted to look my best.”

“But you already look nice.”

“Yes, I know that, but I wanted to look even better. He’s already seen me on T.V. with the same tired clothes over and over again, so I wanted to pick out something new just for him.” Frisk gave Mettaton an odd look, but didn’t say anything again. Mettaton’s mind was beginning to transfer into panic mode slightly. If Frisk had caught his nervousness, certainly Asgore was going to too. He needed to calm himself down. There was nothing to work himself up over two old friends paying each other a visit.

☆

Mettaton couldn’t help but snoop through Asgore’s drawers when he was left alone in the monster’s room. He could see that the king had taken a liking to human clothes also. His shirts were of the extra, extra, extra large variety it looked like. Mettaton picked up a sweater, unfolded it, and held it up. The sweater was almost bigger than him.

He had to put it on.

It was so big and warm, like he had crawled into Asgore’s arms, but the sweater’s effects weren’t enough. He wrapped the too-big sleeves around his middle and sighed. Asgore had a mirror above his dresser. He looked nice today, but only outwardly. He still didn’t like himself. He wanted to go back to his old body all of a sudden, but it was all the way down in Hotland.

“Mettaton?” Mettaton jumped. Asgore had caught him trying on his clothes. Oh well. Mettaton was just going to go with it.

“Hello, darling. Did you get the tea?” Mettaton stopped himself. Was he actually twiddling his thumbs? He heard Asgore set the cups and teapot down and he was embraced suddenly. Mettaton was confused to say the least, but he returned the hug.

“What’s wrong?”

“I hate that question,” Mettaton blurted out. “I mean, nothing’s wrong, I’m fine, goregeous. There’s no need to worry about little old me.”

“I only asked because it looked as though you were about to burst into tears any moment.”

“Oh, honey, please. I don’t cry, especially not after all the time I took to apply this eyeliner.” Mettaton used to cry ghostly tears often, but he would never admit that. That was his past life, and this is now, but it was so difficult to stay in focus. “Thanks for the concern though. I appreciate it, darling.”

Mettaton wondered if it was too much, too soon, but he still leaned up on the tip of his toes to kiss Asgore anyway. The king gasped slightly and tightened his grip. Mettaton decided that it was the perfect distraction after all.

He had to wrap his legs around the king’s back in order to really kiss him probably. He was so big, but it wasn’t a problem. Mettaton felt Asgore’s hands rub across his own back, pulling the sweater up slightly so he could actually feel the robot.

The kissing turned into a tug-of-war of tongues and soft touches on Mettaton’s hips and rough ones on Asgore’s shoulders. Mettaton was laid on the bed oh so carefully. Of course it was king-sized mattress and of the course the pillows were gigantic and downy soft.

Once Mettaton felt hands remove his new heels and slowly slide up from his ankles to his shins, to his knees, and slowly grip his thighs, he froze. He didn’t mean to freeze up. He had been doing so well, responding to all of Asgore’s touches as if he hadn’t come to the realization that he hated himself only moments before, but his hands tensed around Asgore’s shoulders and he was stuck staring up at the ceiling where some lone plants hung forth.

“Mettaton…?” Mettaton tried to force himself to laugh, but the sound was too unsure, too quiet.

“Do you like me, darling?” Mettaton felt as though Napstablook’s spirit had taken over his body. He rubbed his hands across Asgore’s arms and reached up to twine his fingers through the other’s silken mane.

“Yes, I like you.” There was still more to the question.

“I think I made a mistake.” Mettaton leaned up to slowly kiss the king again so he wouldn’t be misunderstood. “I depended too much on others, and then too much on myself. Now I’m in a place where I’m not sure anymore. Which is odd, because I’m always sure of myself. But now I'm… I’m just _not_. And this actually terrifies me to death.” He was distracting the other again.

Asgore stroked his cheek, eyes full of sympathy. “There is nothing to be afraid of as long as you and I are together.”

“You’re really good at this comforting thing, huh?”

“I could say the same for you.” They kissed again, and Mettaton could feel his mood lighten slightly. Perhaps everything was going to be okay for once. The hands gripped the sweater suddenly. “You look nice.”

“That’s all you have to say? I spent three hours shopping just for you and you only compliment me once I’m wearing your clothes?”

“You always look heavenly,” the king corrected.

“That’s better.” Mettaton mustered up a smile then. He actually preferred to keep the sweater on. He hadn’t felt so uncomfortable with himself in such a long time. He had to hold his breath when it happened. The sound of his pants unbuckling was so loud in his ears. He automatically lifted his hips up to assist with fully taking the jeans off, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not.

He felt Asgore pause. He must have stopped liking him then. Mettaton was actually shaking. This was all foreign to him, this overwhelming feeling of painful restlessness. Asgore looked up at him. Mettaton had mentioned that he “never” cried, but he felt like he on the verge. On an impulse, he leaned up to kiss Asgore again, but it was too late for such foolish distractions. He had lain everything out bare on the table, now it was time to see if Asgore was going to walk away.

Asgore touched him suddenly, his fingers pressing against him firmly. Mettaton had never seen such confidence before. The fingers began to move slowly, and Mettaton was simply shocked. He was struck speechless. He felt himself grow wet, he was dripping along his thighs, and wasn’t sure if it liked the sensation or not either. Once Asgore began to stroke his clit, he decided that he did indeed like it.

“Asgore, dear,” he moaned out. Asgore looked up again. “Thank you.” Asgore understood him. His clit was rubbed and kneaded until Mettaton was a writhing mess on the sheets and was sticky between the legs. “I had dreams about this before,” Mettaton admitted. Asgore grew flustered slightly and his movements were starting to grow erratic. “About you touching me like this in your garden, and me touching you while you sat in your throne.” The king’s crown was on the nightstand right beside them.

“Isn’t it a delight when dreams become reality?”

“It is.”

Mettaton moved his foot up slightly and rubbed his toes along Asgore’s length. The monster had a large girth, as expected, and was hardening by the second. Mettaton had been soaking up the attention the entire time, and though he loved it, it was time to give his lover some. He moved down to undo Asgore’s trousers also. His cock was pink at the tip and pressed up proudly against his belly.

“You’re so big,” Mettaton cooed. “You probably can’t even fit all the way inside of me.” Asgore’s blush deepened at that. Mettaton was slowly feeling unsure of himself again, but if the queen could take it, so could he. “Let’s see if we can try, hm?” Asgore nodded slightly.

Mettaton made a show of bringing his hands down upon himself and spreading his lips apart with his fingers. He was soaked through, dripping onto the blankets now. His stickiness gathering in between his fingers and he let out a deep sigh.

He felt Asgore’s tip line up with his opening and push forward slightly. Mettaton squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. “Mm, darling, you’re so thick.” He had to take the remainder Asgore’s length into his hand to guide him deeper inside.

Asgore was stretching his walls out already. Mettaton was practically clawing the other’s shoulders, the bed sheets, the pillows, anything that he could hold onto and steady himself with. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes, certainly from a mixture of joy and pain, not sadness.

Asgore placed his hands on either side of Mettaton’s head and slowly moved his cock out and then thrust back in. His rhythm was developing slowly, and Mettaton didn’t want to do things quickly for once. He looked at Asgore. The king was looking back down at him. There was a look of deep concentration in his eyes along with utter adoration, perhaps even devotion. Mettaton always ate sappy shit like that up.

Mettaton wondered how he looked from Asgore’s point-of-view: wearing his too-large sweater, cheeks flustering slightly, pussy pinking and making wet noises every time Asgore pushed his cock deep down against his epicenter. Mettaton felt himself clench down on Asgore as his speed increased. Asgore had moved from leaning on his elbows to holding Mettaton tightly, nuzzling into his neck, pressing kisses onto his exposed shoulder.

Mettaton couldn’t begin to describe how incredibly empowered he felt to have a king unraveling at his fingertips. He began to roll his hips to take Asgore in even more deeply and moaned loudly, letting his sounds of pleasure fill the room. Asgore was nearly silent. Mettaton took Asgore by his chin and leaned him up to kiss him, more with tongues and teeth than lips. Only then could he hear his lover’s quiet gasps in his ear. “Why are you so quiet, darling? Are you not enjoying yourself?” The robot made a display of pouting.

“I am,” Asgore answered; his voice deep and unwavering.

“Ooh, you’re so serious all of a sudden.” Mettaton felt a shiver go on his artificial spine. “I think like it.” Asgore shook underneath his hands suddenly. He was coming already. It must have been a while since the king had been so intimate with someone else. Mettaton felt honored. He brought himself up on Asgore again as his cum spilled inside him. Mettaton had never felt so filled and complete before.

Asgore pulled out of him slowly and watched as the white fluid began to spill out of Mettaton. Mettaton reached down and touched himself, spreading the lips of his pussy so Asgore had a better view. “You had a good time, hm?” He let out a whimper as he took the fluid and spread it around his clit and thighs.

“Yes, but…” Asgore trailed off and simply just touched him again to show what he meant. Mettaton’s parts were oversensitive. He felt as though he had been rubbed raw by then. Everywhere was a pleasure point. He gasped anew when Asgore brought him over the edge. He had never felt like that before. His hips arched off of the bed and he loudly tried to find his next breath, as the wind had been drawn out of him. He discovered where bliss was hidden when he came onto Asgore’s fingers.

Mettaton was left panting on the bed. He wondered how his battery hadn’t managed to just die on him in that moment. He balled up the sleeves of Asgore’s sweater around his hands. “Thank you so much, darling,” he whispered. Asgore kissed his cheek twice.

“You’ve thanked me enough. I should be thanking you.” Mettaton smiled again. “You are such a beautiful creation.” Mettaton had never felt like a beautiful creation before.

☆

Mettaton also discovered that he enjoyed sex not only late in the afternoon, but early in the morning too.

Asgore had easily pushed inside of him from the side, holding his leg up and wrapping it around his hip. Mettaton wished he could see his lover, but his back was turned to the other and it was still too dark. He touched himself, imagining the look on the king’s face again. He hadn’t washed up after their session the previous night, so when the other came inside of him again, he felt incredibly sticky and messy, but for once he didn’t care if he looked disorderly.

He was a happy robot.

☆

Mettaton and Napstablook were crying in each other’s arms at Blooky’s house after an early lunch. “I’m so happy that you found love,” Blooky murmured through their tears.

“I’m so happy that you’re happy that I’m happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy that I’m happy because you’re happy because I’m happy, too.”

“I love you so much, Blooky.” Mettaton pressed his cheek against his cousin’s.

“Oh… I love you, too.”


End file.
